


To Make Men of Monsters

by Nolfalvrel



Series: In Pursuit of Alice [2]
Category: Tokyo Ghoul, Tokyo Ghoul:re
Genre: Dysfunctional Family, Fluff and Angst, M/M, POV Second Person, Tragedy, Unconventional Relationship, Unrequited Love, Washuu Theory, hidezawa, of course, uriechika?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-03
Updated: 2016-01-15
Packaged: 2018-05-04 15:49:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5339744
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nolfalvrel/pseuds/Nolfalvrel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Urie meets somebody odd at the training facilities. He can't stand him.</p><p>It's a lie he needs to believe.</p><p>Wherein Hide befriends Urie because of his resemblance to Kaneki, and Urie befriends Hide because he doesn't care that Urie's selfish.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

　　For some reason she seemed abnormally happy. But I got the feeling that “abnormally happy” was her default setting. To be honest, even though I’d seen her before, I still couldn’t remember what she was like normally. But either way, it was hard to be put-off by this smiley-faced girl.

- **NISIOISIN** , _ZAREGOTO: The Kubishime Romanticist_

  
  
  
  
  
  


　　You find yourself drowning in those huge doe eyes.  
　　  
　　The man kind of, for a moment, doesn’t look like he’s old enough to be on CCG property. In fact with how he holds himself on the ground, arms curled around his knees as he pouts at the display of the vending machine, he seems younger than even Saiko. And when you’d approached he’d looked up at you-- is still looking up at you, with the indisputable expression of a petulant child.  
　　  
　　“They’re out of Boss,” He whines to you as if it is the most justifiable explanation. Maybe it would be for an _actual_ child. But this close, staring into that face, you know though he can’t be much older than you, _you’re_ much older than the two-year-old he is emulating. You barely flick a glance over the selection of canned coffee, where sure enough only the _Roots Coffee_ brand remains, before you continue attempting to drill a hole in the guy’s skull with your gaze. A gaze that is surely uncomfortable considering how the other members of your squad are constantly flinching under it.  
　　  
　　This strange creature however is unaffected and begins to worry his lower lip between his teeth as he turns back to the machine. “Man, I hate _Roots_.”  
　　  
　　It’s a full minute later and he’s still squatting there drumming his fingers and sighing and you’re honestly at a loss. You’re surely not the best spokesperson for manners but you’ve never just sat in front a vending machine complaining to yourself when somebody is clearly wanting to use it and ignored them. You ask coldly, “Do you mind?”  
　　  
　　The flatness of your tone implies that he better not.  
　　  
　　“Nah man, knock yourself out,” He replies glumly, waving you closer. When you make no indication of moving he looks up again. “Having second thoughts? Their _Aroma Black_ isn’t so bad if you’re truly that desperate.”  
　　  
　　You frown at this, which coupled with your scowl has been rumored to resemble a hissing cat. The particular type of coffee he has just mentioned is actually your favourite, although you aren’t going to tell this ridiculous waste of space that.  
　　  
　　“That’s my favourite kind.” _Shit_. Apparently the words did end up slipping out.

　　“Seriously? Oh, I’m sorry about that then.”  
　　  
　　He’s surprisingly apologetic, which quickly turns to amusement.  
　　  
　　“But your poor taste buds! How can you stand it?”  
　　  
　　You hold your tongue this time and navigate around him in irritation. You’re angry that you even bothered responding to his mockery of your preferred canned beverage, and you’re regretting that you tried getting him to move. It just serves to announce your presence, and the awkwardness of reaching over him to press coins into the money slot, even more than before.  
　　  
　　You key in your selection and resist the urge to tap your foot waiting for the coil to release.  
　　  
　　And just when you thought you’ve had your full experience of this unexpected encounter and start bending to grab the can, he snatches it from the dispenser and stands to face you.  
　　  
　　“My name’s Hideyoshi, but you can just call me ‘Hide’!” He declares brightly and extends the can towards you in a comradely fashion.  
　　  
　　You’re torn between walking away and punching him in the throat. You do neither, instead jerking the can from him roughly. As ever, he remains oblivious to your agitation and tucks his hands into his pockets as he leans towards you. “Hey did you hear me? I said my name’s Hide, now comes the part where you introduce yourself.”  
　　  
　　Leaning back and curling your chin upward to avoid him, there’s a moment where you process how he introduced himself and the conspicuous lack of surname. It’s so suspicious you wonder why he wouldn’t bother to invent a last name to conceal it, and then think maybe he’s such an idiot he doesn’t understand how weird he’s making himself out to be. This leads to actually examining the guy. He’s shorter than you, which you suspected, and has horribly honest brown eyes that remind you of a vacuum, pulling you incessantly forward, _inward_. ‘Hide’, as he calls himself, is also slightly darker than you, in that bronzed European way that matches up with his blatantly more Western-Asian features. His hair is black enough to rival pitch and flops over his face in a aggravatingly similar but also entirely too feminine undercut. Like you, he’s wearing sweats with the Commission’s symbol sewn to the right pocket.  
　　  
　　He seems to realize this at the same time.  
　　  
　　“Oh are you here to train?”  
　　  
　　What a stupid question. This is the _gym_. Which had been, admittedly, gloriously empty while you moved through your stances but crowded or preferably not it is still the _fucking_ gym. Why else would you be here? “No, I’m done for the night,” you tell him and pop open the _Aroma Black_ , gulping heavily.  
　　  
　　“Bummer, I was looking for a sparing partner but no one ever drops by this late. Actually, to tell you the truth you’re the first person I’ve seen hanging around at this time.”  
　　  
　　The sweat slicking your hair, soaking your tee, is probably foul enough to drop flies, and you’re still not breathing a hundred percent even. Tonight’s routine had been a step up in intensity, part of your solo training program to increase your RC endurance levels, and though it was deliberately late, you’d actually lost track of time and ran over by an hour. You really just want to finish your drink and shower and really really really don’t want to deal with this moron.  
　　  
　　Hide doesn’t get the message. “What division are you from?”  
　　  
　　“Division I,” You divulge then pivot sharply on your heel. You walk and drink briskly.  
　　  
　　He follows. “Cool, you’re an Investigator too? What rank are you?”  
　　  
　　“Rank I.”  
　　  
　　“Are you stationed here?”  
　　  
　　“1st Ward.”  
　　  
　　“Oh but you live around here then?”  
　　  
　　“No.”  
　　  
　　“Where do you live?”  
　　  
　　“1st Ward.”  
　　  
　　Suddenly there’s a hand on your shoulder and Hide is maneuvering in front of you. You don’t know why you stop, or rather why you let him stop you. You come to yet another standstill with this impossibly odd man, and this time it’s entirely of your own making.  
　　  
　　The grin he sports is slightly abashed, slightly ... of an emotion you would have to say is fondness. Even though this is your first encounter.  
　　  
　　“I can’t help but feel we’ve got off on the wrong foot somehow. That, or you’re not so subtly heading off quickly to upchuck the contents of that terrible coffee.”  
　　  
　　“It’s not terrible!” You snap, crumpling the aluminum in anger. The bitter liquid nearly spills over and you force yourself cool and calm. Certainly Hide, for whatever reason, is working to get a rise out of you, so you can’t give him the satisfaction. You tunnel the animosity into a charring expression, focusing on making him feel small and crushed under your anger.  
　　  
　　“Okay, okay, I take it back!”  
　　  
　　Hide holds his hands up in surrender but he is wincing around a smile and it’s not like one of Sasaki’s fake ones or Mutsuki’s polite ones, it’s... fiercely genuine. It’s not beautiful or crafted but wholesome, and his entire face transforms with it, is molded into a baffling happiness. “Sorry I’m bad at meeting new people. I always make them mad somehow, I’m a little insensitive I guess. Must be the blon--”  
　　  
　　Hide cuts himself off, appearing thoughtful. “Blood sugar. Low blood sugar. You ever hear of Twinkies? I need like five of those things a day to keep happy. Anyways... I’m really sorry about all that.” He peeks up at you through his bangs.  
　　  
　　“...So, uh, how about that name?”  
　　  
　　You’re making a face, deflated and resigning yourself to what is probably the only method that will satisfy Hide enough to leave you alone. You grab one of his hands from their ridiculous position and jerk it in a rough handshake. “Urie Kuki.”  
　　  
　　Now Hide takes his turn staring, not-so-subtly examining his hand after you release it as if checking that you hadn’t corrupted it with some fatal disease. His next grin is so large it looks painful. “Nice to meet you Urie-san.”  
　　  
　　 _Wish I could say the--_  
　　  
　　“Same here.” You lie so well it seems almost natural. Or maybe it’s that you recite it with the same emotionless, unimpressed lilt so it’s indiscernible.  
　　  
　　“Ha ha, you don’t have to lie, I can tell I’m still bothering you.”  
　　  
　　 _Major understatement_.  
　　  
　　“But like I said, I’ve kind of been looking for a sparring partner, and I know I haven’t exactly sold myself, but I was kind of hoping you’d like to give me a go?”  
　　  
　　You know there’s a sprinkling of shock (that he actually has the audacity to try asking you for help) that filters through your neutral expression but Hide is simply scratching his cheek diffidently and playing with a stray lock that he twists and pulls. The shock becomes a flood of annoyance followed by deliberation. You think about how exhausted you are and how irking this ‘Hide’ is being, weighing the two in your mind.You smirk the kind of smirk that gives off a creepy vibe, the one that makes Saiko flip and call for Sasaki so you usually have to hide it behind a book or magazine or sometimes your hand while bolting from the room.  
　　  
　　Hide is, unknowingly, offering you revenge in the form of practice. He is consenting to you hurting him.  
　　  
　　Usually, you really aren’t this petty, mostly because you can’t be bothered. Exerting effort into other people means actually considering them valuable enough to waste time on, which is an appalling thought. Unluckily for Hide, this has been your worst week. You had to spend most of it listening to everyone near pissing praise onto Kuroiwa Takeomi for defeating that _ghoul_ weaponless, like it’s so fucking brilliant of him to confront the thing barehanded. It wasn’t even a high end ghoul, not like _Big Madam_ , but sharing that joint achievement with the Suzuya Squad somehow makes you less adequate than a moron who likes wrestling behemoths.  
　　  
　　Mutsuki is also unnaturally friendly these days, asking how you’ve been when he sees you so he can not so slyly force you into ridiculous favours. Actually the whole thing feels backwards considering you’ve learned a vital secret of your teammate’s that technically qualifies as blackmail, yet aggravatingly it’s ended up with you wound around his finger unable to weasel away from those dreadful green cow eyes. He’s also interrogating you whenever you come home late, probably since you accidentally confessed to bypassing Sasaki to qualify for enhancement surgery so he’s determined to keep you from making bad choices like the surgeries are some sinful fix for you.  
　　  
　　Kind of, but sort of not really.  
　　  
　　Either way, you’ve never had anyone care for you so you feel this is a ploy Mutsuki is using to gain favour with Sasaki, reporting your movements back to him to prevent it happening again, even though you need it now more than ever to overcome Kuroiwa Takeomi.  
　　  
　　Obviously everyone is just out to screw you.  
　　  
　　The two combined pick just enough at your brain that you’re always wound painful tight, biting your tongue and avoiding everyone when possible to prevent lashing out in a way that could prove regrettable, like seriously going through with your daydreams about strangling Shirazu.  
　　  
　　Mulling all this over, it seems a quick scrap with this Hide is an even better idea than the other man thinks.  
　　  
　　“Sure, why not?” You reply to him.  
　　  
　　He punches a fist into the air.  
　　  
　　“Great! Thanks man, I owe you one! I’m going to work hard to change that opinion of me so that next time you can say it honestly. I’m just going to run and warm up, you rest a little more.”  
　　  
　　He bolts, presumably towards the the tumble mats, and you’re given the opportunity to reconsider what is surely a poor decision. You’ve been warned before about entanglement with non-enhanced humans, which was only the second most embarrassing conversation of your life following father’s birds and the bees briefing with your toy poodle and pet turtle. The point being, you can seriously damage another person due to elevated aggression-- less politely put, blood lust-- and vigor resulting from a higher RC count. Which is why Sasaki strictly trains you exclusively with one another and it’s absolutely mandatory to disclose any intimate relationships to your supervisors, because get too hot and you’re at a serious means to kill _and eat_ someone.  
　　  
　　Hide is not Kuroiwa Takeomi, nor is he a _Quinx_. He is, judging by his lack of recognition to your name, also not aware that you are the later. You should really have some sort of predisclosure agreement in place before grappling with him just to cover your legal bases. You’re a whipcord about to be unraveled, stepping into the training room.  
　　  
　　As you chuck your downed coffee into the recycling, you find you don’t actually care.  
　　  
　　You’re more interested in putting a shiner around those smiling eyes.


	2. Chapter 2

　　“When truth is replaced by silence,the silence is a lie.”  


― **Yevgeny Yevtushenko**

  
  
  
  
  
  


　　On the mats you watch him, track his approach, pathetically slow for someone like yourself. You remind yourself to hold back, pull your punches just enough, leave bruises not broken bones.  
　　  
　　He’s gone so abruptly you scarcely have a chance to catch the heel that digs for your throat. In surprise you hesitate and Hide levers himself by pushing off your hand, bringing his left foot up for a snapping kick that just about dislocates your jaw and sends you flying back. He drops but somersaults into a stand, racing to flank you.  
　　  
　　You’re reeling but have enough sense to advance, intercepting with a slide to take out his legs. He skirts your tackle with a neat back flip, retreating and easily dodging your onslaught of fast, successive punches. He catches your last throw, linking thumbs and locking you in place. The air whistles as he ducks under and turns, whipping his elbow into your ribs.  
　　  
　　You choke.  
　　  
　　If that had been Shirazu or Mutsuki or _Sasaki_ , the move would have split the bone to pieces. Instead you shudder under the intensity, step back and pull on your trapped hand to clutch Hide’s fingers in a vice, bringing your airborne right foot to the back of the smaller man’s knee, forcing him to kneel. He does more, clamping onto the arm holding him and bringing it down over his shoulder and you lose your grip with the ensuing pain. Released, he rolls back onto his palms and delivers yet another blow to your face, a dual kick that sends your head so far back you swear the crack echoing is it tearing off.  
　　  
　　Of course it doesn’t because Hide is only human.  
　　  
　　The rest of the fight is cat and mouse, because you’re enraged and Hide is smart enough to keep away from your bulldozing, snarling form. If he notices that none of the moves he uses break skin or incapacitate you, he doesn’t seem to care, darting at you then away, and you lunge after each time, screeching reminders internally that you have to be gentle even if you do manage to make contact.  
　　  
　　He kites you around in circles that leave you boiling with heat and exhaustion, but the effort of wearing you out quickly wears on the other as well. The sweat rolls beneath his dampened clothes, along his shuddering limbs as he pants. His whole body heaves with the gasps, and your lips twitch. Hide’s intense speed is a sacrifice of stamina, and he obviously is on the verge of collapse. You pounce on him in a flash. He guards but you’ve picked out his weakness. He favours his right heavily, even now grimacing as he fends off an attack to that side.  
　　  
　　You are smug as you pull a knee in to the opening on his left, giving a little extra oomph to the hit out of spite. Hide crumples, unable to withstand the force, and you hoist him under the arms and give veneration to judo with a sacrificial throw. He slams to the ground and you jackknife to your feet, ready to finish the job. As he shakily gets to all fours you rush forward and glide a foot beneath his head, effectively kicking him in the throat. It’s too light to crush his windpipe but it’ll leave a decent mark, especially with how your next kick has your toe nails catch on his chin, slicing a thin gouge. He smacks onto his back and stays flat, gulping the air while cradling his throat.  
　　  
　　“T-time,” Hide rasps, and you wearily sink to the ground with all the dignity you can muster, nursing your own hurts. He got a lot more on you and even though you heal rapidly, everything is still smarting, especially the move at the beginning that practically crushed your face.  
　　  
　　Five minutes later and Hide shifts onto his side with a laugh. “Oh _gosh_ , everything hurts so damn bad!” His voice has a husky quality still. You probably did more damage than you realized, although you are proud with how irate you were you managed to keep from hospitalizing him. Most likely because he surrendered out of exhaustion, not injury. He examines you thoughtfully. “You’re incredibly strong, huh? I can’t even think of what it’d be like to fight you at full capacity...” He’s quiet for a moment, as though he’s contemplating something.  
　　  
　　You pull your shirt overhead, too hot, and nod your agreement.  
　　  
　　“You’re welcome,” You grind out, forcing yourself upright. Every part of you throbs, and any part that maybe doesn’t is numb and hurts with contact. You remember what it felt like to be chewed by Big Madam, the rows of white huge teeth gorging upon you, pain receptors bursting into silence under such agony. This is nothing compared to that, but you still feel like whisked batter, jello legs struggling to get you to the door.  
　　  
　　“Oh yeah, thanks! You were awesome! We should do this again some time?”  
　　  
　　You don’t look back as you ignore him and thankfully he is too worn to chase after you.

　　You’re still sporting a ghastly black eye the next time you see Hide.

　　It’s huge and mottled and had Mutsuki gaping in horror when he first saw you because a week ago it had been considerably more swollen and stubborn in healing to the point you’d asked for one of the other boy’s eye patches. Now you’re just cringing every time old ladies begin speculating if you’re being abused at home.  
　　  
　　You’ve never had an injury take this long to heal.  
　　  
　　The supermarket is flooded with customers sluggishly perusing the store, carelessly bumping and nudging you out of the way as they shop. The lack of concern for personal space is horrifying and your shoulders are raised constantly as you tuck yourself into the smallest target possible, unconsciously growling under breath as a mother with a stroller sympathetically pats you on the back. All of these disregardful, worthless creatures chirping and arguing and making a general nuisance of themselves trample over you, pulling you with them in relentless motion.  
　　  
　　You blink in shock as you see them part before a creature you find even more intolerable, depositing you neatly in the vacated space.  
　　  
　　Hide is bent over the lip of a box, making a series of disgruntled noises and mutters that makes people consciously avoid him as they also dig through the bargain bin. Since you have wandered so close, unawares of course, the tide of shoppers has split around you too, as though you have been encompassed by Hide’s bubble of the thought-to-be mentally unstable. You click your tongue, turning to re-enter the stream with a slight panic and great irritation. The last person you want to see is _Hide_. The last person you want to _see you_ is Hide. The last day you want to see him is _today_.  
　　  
　　And because the entire universe just likes you to bend over and take it when you plead for a small break, you hear an exclamation of your name.  
　　  
　　“Urie, wait!”  
　　  
　　Before you can dive back into the masses and pretend you can’t hear him, didn’t notice him, maybe weren’t even yourself because how can he know he hasn’t seen your face yet, he has sped to stand in front of you. He blocks you with arms widespread, black hair tousled from his rush, tips brushing over his nose in a tangle. When you don’t move he grins and smacks you on the chest in what you suppose is affection.  
　　  
　　“Fancy meeting you here eh? This is actually perfect timing. I’m in a bit of a pinch and you’re just what I need.” Hide loops an arm around you and drags you towards the box he was struggling in moments ago. “C’mere.” Maybe you’ve contracted a cold. You feel slightly feverish beside him, heat building in your temples with a sudden bludgeoning headache. And your legs just move on their own, offering zero resistance as he leads you.  
　　  
　　“This is kind of embarrassing, so don’t laugh okay? It’s not something that happens super often, after all.” He’s speaking again and you just grip your basket tighter, hold it before you like some impenetrable wall that has already demonstrated its uselessness against Hide. He’s rubbing the back of his neck with an abashed face, redness lighting up his nearly invisible freckles. “But I, uh, can’t really reach the stuff at the bottom there, and you’re taller than me and... Well when I grabbed a bag I dropped my glasses and I can’t dig far enough to find them.”  
　　  
　　He’s not looking at you so it’s the perfect opportunity to make your escape while laughing maniacally at his misfortune. Maybe the universe is offering you a once in a lifetime freebie, that Hide is begging for your help and you can refuse, scorn him and mock him for idiocy, finally get back at someone who has humiliated you.  
　　  
　　Your eye throbs as you stand a little straighter.  
　　  
　　Then something remarkable happens. Just as you are about to flippantly brush him off, tell him he’s SOL and cackle like some triumphant Bond villain, Hide looks up at you.  
　　  
　　His lips are pulled upward in the most charming while still mortified smile and you catch sight of the long, vertical scratch that splits his lower lip, the one you put there, bright and fierce and red. Red like his eyes.  
　　  
　　Red like his eyes.  
　　  
　　His eyes are red.  
　　  
　　But they’re brown.  
　　  
　　They were brown.  
　　  
　　His eyes, that are (were) brown, are red.  
　　  
　　These aren’t contacts. They aren’t fake or glossy, or unnaturally stiff even though they’re unnaturally bright. His eyes are red, the kind that accompanies the black sclera of a kakugan, except he still has the whites of a human oculus.  
　　  
　　You stare and Hide backs up, ducks his head again, avoids eye contact.  
　　  
　　“Hey man, I know I’m gorgeous but c’mon the longer we take the longer the lines are gonna get,” Hide sounds strained, gaze flicking everywhere, every so often back to you to see if you’re still staring and of course you are so he groans near imperceptibly. “I’ll give you a picture if you want, you just gotta’ help me out.”  
　　  
　　Hide, a man who has no last name and has impossible eyes.  
　　  
　　Hide, who during your spar, moved with the speed and fluidity of something beyond what he should be capable of.  
　　  
　　You’d avoided the gym for a week, instead utilizing the training floor of the _Chateau_ , working in the odd hours that guaranteed Sasaki wouldn’t be around to observe you and Shirazu wouldn’t disturb you.  
　　  
　　When the bruises refused to fade, Mutsuki’s concerned simpering drove you to the labs. Which is where you learned another interesting tidbit about your own physiology and Hide’s capability.  
　　  
　　“Pressure points?” You’d mumbled, taken aback that such a thing could even affect you. The doctor nodded sagely, frowning a little.  
　　  
　　“Of course. It’s not a well known technique, mostly because it’s ineffective with how far _ghouls_ have advanced, but RC cells are a binary blood cell. It’s how they’re so effective when it comes to regeneration, because they’re able to exploit both the cardiovascular and lymphatic system by resting along the lymph nodes in sacs. It makes sense considering white blood cells are a defense mechanism employed by the body to combat disease thus they have centres of reproduction and drainage close to the vital organs. RC cells use this route to set up mini factories of their own, that way in case of an injury they’re prepared to instantly regenerate and protect the same systems. The regulation of these cells in this manner prevents ROS disease in _ghouls_ because they have fixed amounts in the bloodstream during what we would consider ‘regular operating hours’.”  
　　  
　　The doctor had stalked closer, gesturing with his pen. “But, because of this, if a person were to say, jab at the cluster of nerves along the neck,” here he’d run his pen along the length of your neck, “Known as a pressure point, it would immobilize the area and cause immense pain. Which judging by the inflammation you probably felt. And this would cause damage to the cervical nodes in this area, which stops production of RC cells, which stops regeneration.”  
　　  
　　You’d snarled. “Why wasn’t I told this before? That’s pretty important, having extremely vulnerable areas that can inhibit my abilities. What if a _ghoul_ sprung it during the auction raid? I’d be useless!”  
　　  
　　The doctor had grimaced, glaring at you. “With all due respect Urie-san, we have plenty of fully human, non- _Quinx_ personnel in the field and they’re quite capable of engaging and disposing of _ghouls_ without a boosted RC factor. Such as Kuroiwa Takeomi.”  
　　  
　　That had stung. You’d bit back an withering retort, curling your fists tightly enough to leave bloody crescents through your black gloves. The doctor wasn’t quite finished, continuing his explanation with a sigh.  
　　  
　　“The reason no one told you is because no one thought to tell you. I haven’t seen this technique in practice, I’m just going by experience. It’s called _kotei shimasu_. It’s a super old method to immobilize and weaken a _ghoul_ , used by the older families of Tokyo during the _Meiji Era_ and taught usually only as a tradition these days, so I sincerely doubt a _ghoul_ would ever use it against you. Due to modern _ghouls_ having an abominably high RC count it’s rarely possible for a regular person to exert enough force to actually hit the triggers, which is why it’s not taught in the academy anymore.  
　　  
　　“As I’ve said, only established families, maybe such as the Washuus, would ever know of it. That aside, the reason it worked on _you_ is because you’re not a _ghoul_ , you’re a _Quinx_. It doesn’t take nearly as much force to injure you, and it’s relatively easy to break skin. Because RC cells also help the body recuperate faster from the effects of epinephrine, loss of them probably left you feeling pretty sluggish during your fight as well. Whoever it was, they didn’t take full advantage. They stayed along the cervix, which means they took out your brain as a prime but left your _koukaku_ alone, and basically the rest of your body. The healing is slow going because it’s a lot more work to fix a spot that’s actually responsible for repairing the body, so your face isn’t a priority.”  
　　  
　　“Is there any way to speed it up?”  
　　  
　　He shrugged. “Depending on how precise they were, not really, but try to ice it tonight and avoid tight collars, it might reduce the inflammation a bit.”  
　　  
　　 _Huh._  
　　  
　　You remember this conversation vividly now, watching Hide retreat from you, deliberately looking at the floor. You wonder why he drew attention to himself, called you over, if he didn’t want you to see him like this.  
　　  
　　Could it be he is somehow excited to see you?  
　　  
　　 _That doesn’t..._  
　　  
　　He needed to see you?  
　　  
　　 _Well..._  
　　  
　　It’s the only excuse that would make sense. He caught sight of you. He didn’t want to lose you in the crowd, so against his better judgment, he brought you here. Because he wanted to talk to you.  
　　  
　　You set your basket down slowly and reach into the bin barely filled with bulk packages of chocolate chips. You dig a few moments and your hand closes around something firm and plastic and you pull his glasses from the pile.  
　　  
　　They’re sunglasses, sleek and sporty.  
　　  
　　He doesn’t hesitate to clamp them over his eyes after taking them from you. The orange tint obscures the bloody carmine irises. His deformities disappear and he seems relieved, swiping both baskets from the floor and returning yours with a grateful smile.  
　　  
　　“That’s the second favour you’ve done me now. I’m working up quite a tab, huh?”  
　　  
　　As you expected Hide does not immediately brush you off, instead nudging shoulders and encouraging you to follow him to check out. You do so, peeking at the contents of his shopping. He’s grabbed large quantities of chocolate, sparkling drinks and a suspiciously coloured box of green pasta. It’s almost as ridiculous as the list Mutsuki gave you.  
　　  
　　“So what are you up to, shopping for your girlfriend?” Hide queries and then apologizes to a passerby that nearly tips him over in their rush. When it happens again you irritably switch sides so that Hide is now crowded against the wall and the crowd pushes past you instead.  
　　  
　　You grind out, “I don’t have a girlfriend.”  
　　  
　　“Oh so just a lady friend?” Hide points to the list lying atop the egg carton, where Mutsuki’s scrawl dances in the curliest kanji loops you’ve ever seen. You realize what he’s talking about with a start and shift the basket away.  
　　  
　　“No, I just got volunteered to be their errand boy,” You dismiss, feeling a sudden urgency to protect Mutsuki from Hide’s questions. So you give him a little more to divert him. “My squad wants to have a real family Christmas.”  
　　  
　　“Wow, you’re always roped into helping people out, huh?” He chuckles, covering his mouth. “You’re kind of a nice guy, Urie. Your squad is really lucky.”  
　　  
　　That is immensely amusing to you, and your lips twitch. You are tempted to tell Hide about how you are actually the least liked member of your team, to the point you were stripped of your position as leader due to your inability to cooperate. That Mutsuki guilt tripped you into going to the store, and you eventually gave in because it meant you’d be separated from them for a good few hours.  
　　  
　　You don’t because playing the reluctant nice guy is a better angle for interrogation than the asshole.  
　　  
　　It’s also kind of pleasant to have someone think something positive of you for once.  
　　  
　　You’re not very good at conversation because of how rarely you actively engage with other people but you know this is an opening to ask something of Hide. You try to ask the way Mutsuki would, with his feeble whiny mannerisms, and probe, “So, uh... What are you... Up to?”  
　　  
　　“Me? I’m just bargain hunting. They always have good sales at this time. Plus,” He looks around with scrupulous suspicion. You lean closer as he whispers behind a hand conspiratorially, “My brother is celebrating Christmas with me this year, and he has this thing for dark chocolate, so I’m gonna surprise him with fondue.” He beams proudly and you turn away to hide your expression.  
　　  
　　“Wow, that sounds... Cool.” You cringe around the word.  
　　  
　　“Yeah well he’s kind of a jerk for springing this on me the last minute so he gets discount chocolate, but I know he’ll like it anyways. He’s kind of a sourpuss, like you, but worse because he has a right to be self important because of his job.”  
　　  
　　You blink. Did Hide just... Insult you?  
　　  
　　“Gosh aren’t families just the worst though? Like your squad, the _Quinx_ was it’s name, right?”  
　　  
　　“Yes,” You respond automatically, bemused by Hide’s near rude familiarity, then you freeze.  
　　  
　　You slow and then standstill.  
　　  
　　Hide continues for a few paces. Each step is in measure with your heart, a harmonious thumping of organ against bone to foot against concrete. He turns back to you, shoving his fingers deep into the pockets of his coat.  
　　  
　　“I would say being part of a family is like being subjected to bad communism.” He snorts as though he’s hilarious, scratching his cheek.  
　　  
　　He knows where you’re from.  
　　  
　　Which means he knows what you are.  
　　  
　　So it’s not unreasonable to assume that he’s known all along.  
　　  
　　Which affirms what you’ve come to believe after your visit with the doctor.  
　　  
　　You barrel into Hide, forcing him against the wall, shoving your basket into his stomach, a hand grinding into the brick above his head. You catch reflection of your eyes in the glasses, wild and roving, and see that you still haven’t managed to wipe the smile from his face, or instill any kind of fear. If anything he looks mildly confused.  
　　  
　　“Urie, what--”  
　　  
　　You make your voice cold. Flat, icy and clipped words spew out. “You did this on purpose. You targeted me.”  
　　  
　　“I don’t--”  
　　  
　　“Don’t lie.”  
　　  
　　Finally an expression you can comprehend.  
　　  
　　Guilt transforms his smile into a frown but he doesn’t look away.  
　　  
　　He’s quiet for a while. He stares at you with a gaze that is almost...  
　　  
　　Piercing.  
　　  
　　Like he’s somehow dissecting you despite being rammed against a wall, towered over, threatened. You feel almost as though he is the one standing over you, as if you’ve missed something because he has a pitiful expression, and it’s not quite self-pitying, more as if he pities you.  
　　  
　　And then the smile returns. Small yet bright.

　　“...You know, I was pretty scared when we fought and you weren’t responding. When I tried to wind you, I almost fractured my own elbow. Amazing! But still pretty scary. I almost thought I was fighting a real _ghoul_. Or that you were the crazy kid that strangled one of them. So I was a bit relieved when I tapped your neck and then you actually slowed down. So I knew you couldn’t be a real _ghoul_ even though you weren’t human... Fully at least. Still, I didn’t know what a _Quinx_ was until afterwards.”  
　　  
　　You do your best not to react to Hide’s story, keeping your body rigid, trying to sort out whether he’s telling the truth because it doesn’t make a lot of sense. Even if your name isn’t far-reaching (yet), the _Quinx_ is a massive project, and everyone has been good and briefed for a few years now. Especially since the CCG really doesn’t want its men accidentally massacring valuable experiments by confusing a _Quinx_ with the real thing.  
　　  
　　“All active Investigators have been informed about my squad,” You counter, satisfied that you’ve caught him in a sure lie. You want to make this quick, figure out why this prick has such an interest in you and then indulge in a little retribution. At least you can confirm his bizarre eyes don’t make for fast regeneration, whatever else their purpose serves, so you’ll be sure to enjoy yourself.

　　“It may come as surprise considering my top form, but I’ve been on a leave of absence for almost... three years? Yeah, I think it was that long,” Here the brunet rubs his chin, nodding to himself. “And don’t go thinking it was forced or anything! Uh... Well it kind of was, but not like _disciplinary_. I got real torn up during an operation. Anyway, for the short and sweet of it, I’m actually not even field authorized yet. So I’ve been playing catch up for a long time with the Commission, and to be honest, they left out a lot of stuff while bringing me up to speed. Honestly, I only found out because you kinda’ freaked me out, being not a hundred percent, you know, human?”  
　　  
　　Your molars crumble as your teeth grind to keep your face straight. The flaking bone sticks to your tongue and you swallow thickly. “You’ve said that twice now.”  
　　  
　　“Sorry! I-uh, what?”  
　　  
　　“The not human thing. I’m still human. I’m nowhere near the threshold for a _ghoul_.”  
　　  
　　“O-oh.”  
　　  
　　“So you asked me to train with you purely out of chance?”  
　　  
　　“Genuine coincidence, as hard as it is to believe.”  
　　  
　　“What squad are you assigned to, then, when you return?”  
　　  
　　“Fura’s Squad.”  
　　  
　　You’re a bit taken aback by the familiar name, and you study him carefully for a few moments. You straighten to your full height, allowing the other some space as you consider him. “What rank are you?”  
　　  
　　Hide doesn’t relax (as he was never tensed to begin with) but he does try to mimic you, squaring his shoulders and standing tall.  
　　  
　　“Rank 2, I’m pretty sure.”  
　　  
　　“...Pretty sure?”  
　　  
　　“I, uh, have one last assessment before being cleared. For active duty.”  
　　  
　　Aggravatingly, his story seems to match up so far. He would only receive full disclosure once he was actually taking part in operations, which does explain his lack of knowledge on the _Quinx_. You’d be suspicious of his high rank after being on so long a leave except you’ve seen him in action. _Kotei shimasu_ or no, Hide is clearly far more deserving than a rookie squad, as much as it pains you to admit. Fura’s Squad is reasonable, as well as his rank.  
　　  
　　However, you feel Hide is only pretending to be honest, but at the same time you’re not ready to ask the bigger questions. You don’t care about him or his chameleon eyes or his baggage all that much as long as he doesn’t have some sort of vendetta against you. You have something more important to deal with.  
　　  
　　You open your mouth.  
　　  
　　Hide beats you to the punch.  
　　  
　　“I can fix that if you want. Your eye and stuff. I mean, that’s what you really wanna’ know, right?”  
　　  
　　You nod.  
　　  
　　“Okay then we should head somewhere private.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I sincerely apologize for my lack of understanding when it comes to anatomy. If it sounds horrifyingly off, or doesn't quite make sense, I'm sorry! I tried as best I could to incorporate my limited knowledge with some research but it still might sound weird. I really wanted to give Hide an ace in the hole though, w/out going the whole half ghoul route. Anyways, still slow going for this chapter as well in terms of plot but next chapter will cover a lot of time for Hide and Urie finally becoming friends and so on. I'm bumping it up to five chapters total as well. :-) Please let me know what you think, as with the previous chapter, anonymous commenting is enabled so regardless if you have an account or not you can share your thoughts! <3

**Author's Note:**

> Second part of the series, actually the series end lol. I love hidezawa but the ideas just haven't been flowing for the other characters as much as Urie's part, so I decided I had to at least post something so everyone would know it's still in progress. IPOA will span POVs from multiple characters in Hide's life, pre-OWL Supression relationship being hidezawa, post being uriechika (which is this work), all with mentions of hidekane. I welcome any feedback, including scenarios you'd enjoy to see involving certain characters, so please comment, anonymous commenting is enabled for those without accounts :).


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